


Every Second Counts

by dreamingofwinter



Category: Good Omens (TV), Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: Aziraphale Loves Crowley (Good Omens), Aziraphale/Crowley First Kiss (Good Omens), Comfort, Crowley Loves Aziraphale (Good Omens), First Kiss, Fluff, Friends to Lovers, Friendship, Heaven, Kissing, Light Angst, Love Confessions, M/M, Mutual Pining, Post-Apocalypse, Requited Love, Romance, Soft Crowley (Good Omens)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-12
Updated: 2020-01-12
Packaged: 2021-02-27 08:15:19
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,314
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22203946
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dreamingofwinter/pseuds/dreamingofwinter
Summary: In less than twenty four hours, Aziraphale and Crowley would be torn apart forever, and this time, there would be no way back for either of them. This was not discorporation. This was destruction.Unless, of course, they could decipher Agnes Nutter’s final prophecy.
Relationships: Aziraphale & Crowley (Good Omens), Aziraphale/Crowley (Good Omens)
Comments: 6
Kudos: 55





	Every Second Counts

**Author's Note:**

> I usually write from Aziraphale’s viewpoint but have switched things up a bit here and written more from Crowley’s. 
> 
> Hope you enjoy it and thanks for reading!

Humans will always concern themselves with time. Whether it be worrying about not having enough of it, wondering what to do with it, or simply living one’s life by the hands of a clock, it is the ever present issue in everyone’s minds that no one is truly aware they are even thinking about unless it is done deliberately.

For immortal beings, however, time is less of an issue. Of course angels will often set deadlines, Heaven being the bureaucracy it is, and Hell will start to notice if a demon has been particularly quiet and not checked in for a couple of years. The demon Crowley is able to stop time, for a short while at least, with considerable use of demonic power and sheer will. 

Essentially, angels and demons are not bound by the same constraints as humans, and it had never occurred to Aziraphale and Crowley that time would ever be something that would require worrying about. 

Until, of course, that fateful summer evening when Aziraphale received Crowley’s call to tell him that the Antichrist had been sent to Earth. 

Previously, Aziraphale and Crowley had never put a time limit on their Arrangement. It would end when one of three things happened: they were caught by their superiors, the end of the world happened, or they died. In the permanent sense of the word, for they both knew if anything happened to them such as discorporation, they would eventually find their way back to each other somehow. The angel and demon had been dancing around each other for millennia: drawing together, parting, and reconnecting again and again, as they were destined to do. By this point, the Arrangement had become just as much for pleasure as it had for business, and one might say it was less of a working partnership and more of a friendship. Perhaps even with underlying implications of something _more_.

With Crowley’s call came new limits, and suddenly, everything had a number. For Aziraphale and Crowley, eleven years was a considerably short amount of time, and it was exactly how many years they had until the world ended. This figure quickly turned into single digits, as eleven years became seven days, which counted down one by one until the final day of reckoning. 

When that day came, the angel and demon were gifted with something. _More time_. More but less, as it were. More than they had originally expected. Less though than the human race, which would now continue on indefinitely, blissfully ignorant of the fact that the world had almost ended. 

In less than twenty four hours, Aziraphale and Crowley would be torn apart forever, and this time, there would be no way back for either of them. This was not discorporation. This was destruction. 

Unless, of course, they could decipher Agnes Nutter’s final prophecy. 

...................................................

Their final night weighed heavy. It was wrong, in every sense. It simply should not _be_. They were incredibly lucky to have this time, this chance.

If all went well, Aziraphale and Crowley would decipher the prophecy and grant themselves their eternity, their shared fantasy that neither was aware the other desired. 

If things went wrong, they only had this night alone to discuss their feelings for one another; feelings that had gone unspoken about for millennia. As far as the two were concerned, this again could go one of three ways: they could die tomorrow full of regret for not sharing their feelings sooner, they could decipher the prophecy and live a miserable life for eternity having ruined their friendship, or they could decipher the prophecy and lead the wonderfully fulfilling life together they both so desired.

As far as Crowley was concerned, knowing his luck (or lack of), he knew it was highly unlikely to be the third one.

Which was why these things were being skirted around once more, despite there now being roughly twelve hours left. Once the words were spoken, there would be no taking them back. And if, no, _when_ they faced their final moments, Crowley knew he could not possibly accept his fate should the angel somehow reciprocate his feelings.

...................................................

Aziraphale was pacing up and down Crowley’s lounge, becoming increasingly frustrated with his failing attempts to decipher the prophecy. His frustration quite honestly lay with something else, but the scrap of paper on the table was a good excuse as any to release his agitation upon. 

”It’s just not making sense to me, Crowley!” Aziraphale cried, running a hand through his hair for the umpteenth time that evening, causing white-blond curls to become even fluffier than usual. The angel was beginning to look somewhat wild; bright blue eyes wide and shining, cheeks flushed and waistcoat crumpled from the constant fiddling with the material.

Crowley had never seen Aziraphale like this before, so out of control. In other circumstances he may have considered this look rather appealing on the angel, but tonight, he was just worried about him. 

”Just... leave it a while. Have some wine while I take a look. You need a break.” The demon was sprawled on the newly created black leather settee, his corporation exhausted from his earlier efforts at the airbase.

Aziraphale paused his pacing for a moment to scowl down at Crowley. 

”I need nothing of the sort! What I need is to work out what it is she means, what we’re supposed to _do_.”

Crowley sighed, exasperated. Aziraphale going round in circles was not helping anything. 

” _Please_ , angel. Look, I want to work it out just as much as you, of course I do! But we’re not getting anywhere like this.”

For a moment, Aziraphale paused and looked as though he was about to cry. 

Then, as though remembering himself, he shook his head and sighed, giving in and sitting down at the opposite end of the sofa.

“Oh, Crowley,” he said sadly, resting his head back on the leather as though gazing up to Heaven. “What are we going to do?”

.....................................................

Crowley, in the moment of Aziraphale despairing, had decided what he was going to do was open a bottle or two of wine. It would serve either to help the angel relax, or drown their sorrows, depending on how much they drank. They could always sober up later. 

Crowley rifled through kitchen cupboards to find the wine glasses. It had been a considerable amount of time since he had company at his flat, as he and Aziraphale would usually retire to the bookshop after many an enjoyable evening at nice restaurants. Crowley took in a deep inhale at the thought, closing his eyes momentarily and pushing the memory of the inferno to the back of his mind. He could dwell on that another time, or not. Uncorking the wine, the demon exited the kitchen and made his way back to the lounge. 

As he approached the sofa, he realised something that made him stop in his tracks, staring at the angel in disbelief. 

Aziraphale’s head was slightly tilted to one side, resting gently on his own shoulder. The angel appeared perfectly relaxed, and very much sound asleep.

”Well, who’d have thought,” Crowley muttered quietly to himself. Aziraphale _never_ slept. That was Crowley’s indulgence, not the angel’s. A wave of emotion washed over him as Crowley realised just how much trust Aziraphale clearly placed in him to allow himself to slip into such an unfamiliar, vulnerable state in the demon’s company. 

Crowley sat down carefully in the middle of the sofa, feeling a sudden urge to be close to Aziraphale but not wanting to disturb him. The poor angel must have been exhausted from the day’s events. Placing the bottle on the table, Crowley settled himself back into his usual slouch, sipping the claret liquid, intending to mull the prophecy over in his head and see what he could come up with.

A short while later, he realised that all he had been doing for the last ten minutes or so was gaze at Aziraphale. 

Crowley noticed the angel’s endearing, snowy white curls before drinking in his perfectly relaxed features. The pale cheeks tinged with a rosy glow, the slightly upturned nose, the pink, bow shaped lips _. Those lips._ So wonderfully soft looking, just like the rest of him. Crowley found himself focusing on them, trying to stop his mind from running away with fantasies of kissing them. 

Some people over the years had commented on how Aziraphale could perfectly resemble an angel. For Crowley, Aziraphale’s image in itself alone _was_ perfection. 

Crowley watched as Aziraphale’s chest rose and fell in rhythmic movements, then realised he himself had stopped breathing as he continued to gaze in wonderment. A heavy feeling grew in his chest, not altogether unpleasant but one that commanded an action, though Crowley was unsure _what_ exactly that action was. All he knew for certain was that he wanted to get closer. He swallowed around the lump in his throat and shuffled his body towards Aziraphale, their arms bumping lightly together.

His heart cried out for more, but Crowley did not want to impose himself on the sleeping angel, who might be averse to the idea of the demon being so close as he slept. He wanted to lay his head on Aziraphale’s chest and listen to his heart beating, to wrap his arms around him in a protective embrace as he slumbered. Instead, Crowley continued to gaze, his mind going into overdrive.

He had been so close to losing Aziraphale. He had thought he _had_ lost him. There was still a chance he might.

The angel shifted a little in his sleep, muttered something inaudible then fell silent once more. This sudden action startled Crowley who had been lost in the moment, causing him to quickly sit forwards and lean towards Aziraphale with curiosity. _Is he dreaming_? 

Crowley suddenly became aware of their close proximity, and felt the tugging in his chest again, the feeling familiar after years of experiencing it at particular moments around the angel. Tonight, it was stronger than ever. 

The demon sighed, overwhelmed by the feeling. The pull became even stronger. The commanding urge to just reach out and _touch_...

Crowley’s hand brushed through Aziraphale’s soft curls before he even had a chance to think about what he was doing and stop himself. When Aziraphale did not stir, he repeated the motion, enjoying the feeling of the silvery wisps against his fingers. 

As his gentle movements became a slow rhythm, Crowley’s mind was once again pulled back to the present. What would become of them tomorrow? What if this was their last night on Earth? The last night they would ever spend together, both the first and final time Crowley would get to run his fingers through these beautiful angelic curls?

What if this was the last time they saw each other ever again?

Tears pricked the back of Crowley’s eyes and threatened to fall, but he was too focused on Aziraphale to even notice, let alone will them away. 

“Oh, Aziraphale.” He whispered, voice choked with emotion and longing.

_This can’t be it. I can’t lose you now, angel. Not now we’re just getting started._

Six thousand years... all for it to end like this. 

It was already too much to bear.

Crowley’s thumb ghosted across the angel’s cheek as he fought the overwhelming urge to wake Aziraphale and tell him _everything._ As he was about to force himself to draw his hand away, reminding himself of the several reasons why he must keep quiet, Aziraphale’s eyes fluttered open. Crowley froze, caught in the act. 

For a moment, they simply looked at each other, before Aziraphale broke the silence.

“You were stroking my hair.” He stated it plainly as a fact. 

“Erm...” Crowley withdrew his hand, looking a combination of guilty and uncomfortable as he rubbed the back of his neck awkwardly and tried not to cringe with embarrassment. “Sorry, angel, I...” Crowley trailed off. He had no explanation for it other than the words he so desperately wanted to say, the ones that he _refused_ to say. 

_Not going to ruin our friendship if it’s our final night_.

Then the angel said something that paused all of Crowley’s cognitive thoughts and caused him to stare at his friend in amazement. 

“I liked it.” He said simply.

_He liked it. He liked me touching him. A demon. Touching an angel_.

“You did?” He asked weakly.

“I did. It was nice. Soothing.” Aziraphale seemed to be gazing into the very depths of Crowley’s soul as piercing blue eyes met amber serpentine ones. 

“Yeah, it was,” Crowley mumbled, before becoming painfully aware that Aziraphale was referring to his own thoughts on the matter rather than the demon’s. He felt a blush creep up his neck.

Something was happening to the air between them. At some point it had become heavy, charged. Both wanted the same thing, yet neither were able to voice it. Neither dared to.

“You don’t have to stop if you don’t want to.” Aziraphale said softly. For a moment, Crowley thought he had imagined it until he realised the angel was gazing at him in earnest.

Crowley’s arm had a mind of its own. Light as a feather it lifted, his hand returning to rest on the side of Aziraphale’s face as it began to caress the angel once more.

Crowley could not tear his eyes away from Aziraphale as the angel’s eyes flickered shut and he leaned in to the contact. Crowley felt his body move even closer, mere centimetres away now.

“I need to make a confession,” Crowley quietly admitted, hardly daring to believe he was finally going to share his millennia-old secret. He had to be honest with Aziraphale. Whatever came after, he could not control. He knew now that he had to be honest tonight of all nights; the desire to do so dissipating the fear that had always surrounded it.

Then Aziraphale shook his head and spoke, and Crowley’s confession came crashing down around him.

“Don’t.” He said gently, opening cerulean eyes and reaching for Crowley’s hand.

The demon’s heart plummeted and he braced himself for the inevitable rejection. Perhaps he had grossly misjudged Aziraphale’s feelings after all.

“Just kiss me.”

Crowley was stunned; the world stopped turning for a moment. The words echoed in his head, unable to be processed, and Aziraphale’s face began to fall in the wake of Crowley’s lack of response.

He began to apologise, attempting to pull his hand away and mumbling something about misunderstanding completely.

“No! Angel, sorry, it was just... unexpected is all.” Crowley grasped Aziraphale’s hand harder, pulling it back to him. 

The angel began to protest, worried that Crowley was only saying this to placate him. He was quickly cut off by a pair of indescribably soft lips being pressed to his in a slow, chaste kiss. 

Crowley broke them apart for a moment to provide reassurance to the anxious angel. 

“I want this, Aziraphale. More than anything, I want this. I want _you_.”

Then they were kissing again, hands snaking around each other, holding each other close. The kiss gradually grew heated, and Crowley found himself being pulled on top of the angel as they sank back against the cushioned arm of the sofa, never breaking contact.

‘We don’t have to talk about it, do we?’ Crowley murmured between kisses.

“Not tonight.” Aziraphale whispered, recapturing the demon’s lips as he caressed his cheek reassuringly.

“Then let me show you, angel.” Crowley gasped, kissing Aziraphale as though his very existence depended on it. _Perhaps it did_. 

There were around ten hours remaining, and Crowley would die happy if he spent every second of them locked in this passionate embrace with his angel.

“Please.” Aziraphale assented between kisses that grew quicker and more desperate.

Crowley shuddered with delight as he felt Aziraphale’s hands slide up the back of his shirt, the sensation of his angel’s bare skin upon his setting his skin aflame. Aziraphale’s hands roamed Crowley’s back, and the demon impulsively snapped his fingers to make his shirt disappear completely.

“Crowley!” Aziraphale gasped, parting them for a moment. 

Crowley was pulled out of his heady haze, coming back down to Earth with a bump. _Too fast_.

“Sorry, sorry. I’m getting carried away.” He pushed himself up off Aziraphale to allow the angel to sit up and straighten himself out. 

“Oh, please don’t apologise, my dear. There’s nothing I want more.” Aziraphale gave a dark chuckle. “I just... don’t think I could bear it if we took things further and I lost you tomorrow.”

Crowley nodded, both of them looking downcast. He knew exactly what Aziraphale meant, and could see the guilt the angel carried for interrupting the moment. 

“It’s ok, angel. I understand. Truly.” Crowley pressed a kiss to the back of Aziraphale’s hand that was now holding his. Feeling a little self conscious now the mood had become somewhat somber, he rematerialised his black shirt. 

Silence fell over the couple as they held hands and settled back on the settee, contemplating what had just happened, what this meant.

Suddenly, Aziraphale leapt up with a start. 

“I’ve got it!” He cried, triumphant. 

“ _Choose your faces wisely_. We have to _become_ one another.” Crowley looked confused. “Swap bodies, if you will.”

“Swap bodies? Angel... that’s brilliant!” A grin crept across his face. They had already discussed the almost certainty of Crowley facing Holy water and Aziraphale facing Hellfire. If this was the case, the plan was virtually foolproof. Neither would be harmed. 

“Hang on, Aziraphale...” a sudden realisation dawned on Crowley. “No. No, no way. You’re not going _down_ _there_. Definitely not for me.” 

“My dear, you couldn’t possibly stop me.” Aziraphale said primly. “I would go anywhere for you, all the way to the darkest depths of Hell and back, quite literally.” 

Crowley dithered. He knew what Aziraphale was like once his mind was made up about something. There was absolutely no stopping him, and judging by his tone, this was one of those occasions. 

Crowley could waste the next few hours bickering with Aziraphale and getting nowhere, or he could spend them solidifying the plan, making sure Aziraphale knew how to stay as safe as possible, and perhaps, just maybe, sharing more eager kisses with the angel. 

“Oh, fine.” Crowley snapped, though there was no trace of annoyance in his voice. Aziraphale gave him a smug smile. Crowley’s heart leapt, and he had to fight back the smile that was threatening to appear. _Bastard. If he knew what that look does to me._..

”How’d you think of it, anyway?” He asked, changing the subject.

“Well, when we were kissing, I couldn’t help but think about what it would be like if we _were_ to take things further, perhaps even merge our essences. It made me realise that there was a possibility for us to inhabit the other’s body, should we so wish. Ordinarily it wouldn’t be my first thought regarding such a moment, but given the circumstances...”

Aziraphale broke off, noticing Crowley staring at him. His serpentine eyes were golden, and his expression was one of a person who had been struck on the head with a heavy object. 

“I know it’s a lot to take in, and you probably wouldn’t want to be in my body, what with it being, well, _soft_ ,” Aziraphale added hurriedly. “I’m just not sure there’s another way. We can think about-“ 

Crowley cut him off.

“You really thought about doing that while we were kissing?” The demon’s voice was full of awe.

“Well, I know it’s not-“

“It’s fine. More than fine! I just... can’t believe you just said that so casually. Can’t believe you thought about me... about doing that with _me_.” Crowley’s voice was almost hoarse with emotion.

“Why ever not? Surely it’s quite clear how I feel about you after that?” Aziraphale was still using that completely even, unfazed tone as Crowley struggled to form his sentence. 

“Well yeah, but... angel, it’s so... _intimate_. And, you know, I’m a demon. How do you even know we could...?” He trailed off, still struck by the abruptness of Aziraphale’s honesty.

‘Crowley.” Aziraphale took both the demon’s hands in his. “I _know_. I just know. I felt something, something... _just right_ , when we kissed. I know you felt it too.”

“Love.” Crowley whispered, eyes shining positively golden in the dim lamplight. 

“ _Love_.” Aziraphale repeated, the word full of meaning, full of promise. 

Neither knew which one of them moved first, but suddenly they were kissing again, arms wrapped around each other in a gentle embrace. Unlike the hurried, passionate kisses from earlier, these were long and deep and meaningful; slower paced yet somehow moving them more quickly towards the direction in which they needed to go. 

“I love you, Crowley. I only wish I’d had the courage to tell you sooner.” Aziraphale said softly as he held the demon close. 

Crowley let out a breath he hadn’t realised he had been holding as he relaxed fully against Aziraphale.

“Love you too, angel. S’not your fault you couldn’t. It was... circumstances.”

“When isn’t it.” Aziraphale replied.

Lips met again in a last, lingering kiss. Crowley’s arms encircled Aziraphale; this time he was the one to pull the angel down on top of him.

“It’s ok, angel. Just want to hold you.” 

Aziraphale hummed and allowed the demon to guide him down, resting his head on Crowley’s chest as gentle arms wrapped around him.

Crowley lay there, the angel a warm weight atop him. He could remain here like this forever, if only they had it. It was more like eight hours. His heart sang for Aziraphale yet cried out in anguish at the thought of something going wrong. Crowley had finally been granted a taste of what he desired more than anything, and there was still a possibility it could all be cruelly snatched away before it had been allowed to blossom into something truly ineffable.

...................................................

The final hours of the night had soon merged into morning as Aziraphale and Crowley had put their plan into action. Now, as Crowley stepped out of the Hellfire, triumphant grin still plastered on Aziraphale’s face, he knew he only had around a minute and a half before he was back on familiar territory. A minute and a half before his new life began. 

The countdown started.

Gabriel backed away as Crowley stepped forwards. _Eighty_ _seconds_. 

Two angels were quickly ushered forwards and given whispered instructions, a look of terror appearing on their faces as they turned to Crowley. _Sixty_ _seconds_. 

The angels guided Crowley out of the room and back towards the lift, pressing the button that summoned it. _Forty_ _seconds_. 

The lift arrived; Crowley was ushered in. The angels made a swift exit as the doors closed. _Thirty_ _seconds_.

The lift whirred into life, travelling downwards until it made a smooth stop at the bottom, doors opening to reveal a glass revolving door a few feet away. _Five_ _seconds_. 

Crowley’s purposeful strides carried him across the threshold with exact timing. _Zero_. 

He had made it in and out of Heaven just in time for their rendezvous. He only hoped that Aziraphale was managing in Hell. Fury rose in Crowley’s chest as he pushed the echoes of the Archangel’s words to the back of his mind, and a part of him wondered why he even sometimes bothered to regret his Fall. 

.................................................

Aziraphale approached the bench, sitting down in an uncharacteristically upright position for Crowley’s corporation. Crowley himself had adopted his usual slouch that Aziraphale was certain his body had never seated itself like in his life. If any acquaintance of theirs saw them, they would know straight away that something was most definitely _off_. Fortunately there was no need to keep up the pretence any longer. 

After a brief conversation, they reached out and joined hands, allowing their essences to return to their proper corporations. Their hands lingered for a moment before parting, as the angel and the demon exchanged a look full of promise and longing.

_Later. We have all the time in the world. We waited six thousand years. What’s a few more hours?_

Within the hour, Aziraphale and Crowley would be enjoying a delicious dinner at the Ritz, toasting the world. _Their_ world _. Their future._

Three hours later, the pair would be entwined on Aziraphale’s bed in the upstairs flat of his newly restored bookshop, taking their time sharing sweet kisses and exploring their newly discovered passion. 

For an indeterminable amount of time, the angel and demon would once again be dancing their endless dance. This time, however, their partings would be briefer, and as they drew together again, they would hold each other much closer, the whole thing more intimate and openly loving. 

Things could always be measured in numbers. The age of the Earth. The length of time a demon had been in love with an angel. The years it took for the angel to realise he loved him back. Except for one thing. 

The love that Aziraphale and Crowley shared simply could not be quantified by any number or compared with anything else. It had an indescribable depth to it, and after six millennia of repressed emotions on both sides, both were anxious to traverse it **.** There would always be something new to discover: feelings that had not yet been named, pleasures that had yet to be experienced. 

The only thing that was certain in this funny old world of time was that the love between them was everlasting. Once again, Aziraphale and Crowley were no longer bound by time’s parameters, but there was one thing they would both agree on.

Never again would they take it for granted, and they would be sure in future to make every second count.

Especially now they had something so ineffably precious that they would share for eternity.

**Author's Note:**

> This fandom is slowly taking over my life! I’m part of a small handful of various ones but Good Omens is the only one that has truly motivated me to write (usually guilty of being a long time lurker!)  
> I actually managed to keep this to one chapter unlike my previous two fics :)


End file.
